Grieve and Forget
by chloeewenzel
Summary: When Clint is faced with the loss of his partner, how does he get by? People say that the spirits of your loved one's watch down on you, but he has never felt so alone. Until a miracle happens, and everything changes when he finds her playing his piano in his room two years after her death.
1. Chapter 1

You know that feeling you get, when your on a mission with your partner and four other agents, and you're the only one who has to stand on the 64 story building roof and wait because you're the best sniper of all time?

And then there's yelling over your ear piece and you can hear gunshots in the distance but you don't know what's going on because the others are all concentrated on fighting, but you listen in anyway because that's what a good agent does in case your needed?

And then you catch the four most dreaded words of all time?

"_Agent Romanoff is down."_

And your heart feels like its stopped beating and your legs feel numb and your brain clouded, but your instincts kick in and your leaping from roof to roof in your haste to get to the scene with your bow and arrow poised to strike in case someone comes by who you don't want to run into?

Then your barging into the building where the fighting and gun shots are coming from, and almost instantly shoot the bad guy who had his gun pointed to a team member, and then your eyes flicker around for the one thing you hope you wont see but it appears anyway?

And she's lying there with a shiny puddle of blood forming around her body, her eyes are closed and she's not moving. Her red hair is stuck to her face because of the blood from herself and others, and she's slightly dusty because of all the rubble and broken concrete scattered around her body?

And the enemy is forgotten.

And you run to her and take her in your arms.

And you can finally see the sharp metal pole protruding through her chest, and you can feel the bile rise in your throat but you try to remain calm, and you have her head rested in your lap and your feeling for a pulse you know you wont find but you try anyway for the sake of hope?

And then you realize you're chanting her name over and over again, begging for her to wake up even though you know she won't.

And the enemy is dead and the other four agents who you couldn't really care less about are watching you a few feet away and are hanging their heads in sorrow as you try to remain calm but your hands are covered in her blood and shaking and you can feel your heart sinking lower then it ever has before because the only person who really understood you was gone?

And your eyes begin to prick with the tears you swore you would never shed again?

And then you watch as a med team comes and takes her lifeless body away from you and your left there in the rubble and blood, drawing your knees up to your chest and tucking your head in your arms and scrunching your eyes shut to try and hold the forbidden tears back but they squeeze themselves out anyway and your left silently sobbing because everyone knows that you want to be left alone?

Yeah. That's the feeling I've got.

.

Everything reminded me of her.

Everything from the gym to the balcony, to pouring the milk in the bowel before the cereal, to sucking on mango's after they've been in the fridge for hours, even to brushing my teeth.

"_We're not leaving for this mission until your teeth are gleaming white." Natasha held up my blue and yellow toothbrush up and waved it in my face, barring the way to the door with a deadly look on her face._

"_I brushed them in the morning, Nat."_

_Her eyes narrowed, teeth bared._

"_There are about fourteen different ways I could kill you with this thing, you know?" she pointed it at my chest like a knife, and I knew that it wasn't a joke. _

"_What is with you and brushing teeth?" I asked, snatching it out of her hand and turning to go to the bathroom. _

"_You know I hate bad breath and plaque." She followed me out, grabbing her own pink and purple toothbrush and squeezing the minty paste onto each of them. _

"_Yeah, that would explain the little disposable ones you take on every mission, hey?" I asked sarcastically, and she elbowed me a little too hard in the ribs._

I don't know how long I had locked myself in my room for, but no one bothered to come and try soothing my pain. I felt numb, empty, out of place. Every time I turned around, I would expect to find her standing there with my black shirt that was too big for her on, smiling with a bottle of vodka in her hand like she had done so many times before. Then I remembered that she was gone.

I turned to drinking the pain away. I knew Fury would kill me for grieving this way, and a big part of me wished he would, but I couldn't care less, he was the one who sent her into that mission, he was the one that sent her to her death.

I didn't drink vodka though. Vodka was her favorite drink, and that bought back too many memories of drunken nights we often spent together. So instead, Stark gave me a couple of bottles of scotch, nodding at me silently before turning and leaving me to lock the door and drink it all away.

Piles of flowers continued to grow higher and higher, but I left them there, didn't need to be reminded of why they were being sent and who over.

Steve would visit once a day, eyes slightly swollen each time as he silently entered and I stared blankly at the wall as he set a plate full of steaming food down on the table, only to be left alone and grow cold and untouched.

I often heard Dr. Banner and Fury arguing outside of my apartment, Banner wanting to come in and check on me and my health, but Fury insisted that I need time to grieve for the loss of my partner.

I hadn't seen her body yet. I asked for the video footage of the cause of her death, but Fury simply shook his head and said 'let it be.'

So when I heard a knock on the door, rapid and hesitant, unlike Steve's or Tony's, I was slightly confused and curious.

I silently stood from my bed, throwing a glance at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed, not just from the alcohol and lack of sleep, and I had sandy stubble scattered over my face.

Even my stubble reminded me of her. She loved the way it scratched her face when I whispered in her ear.

I walked over to the door and opened it slowly, not bothering to have a gun or knife at the ready, hoping I would get killed and not defending myself.

A tall, slender woman with blonde hair and brown eyes stared at me with nervous eyes. I recognized her as one of the woman we had been paired with when…

"Hi." She breathed, eyes growing soft as she looked at me.

"Hi." I croaked, clearing my throat after not using my voice for who knows how long.

"I'm Agent Carter, I was one of your team members the day that-"

"Yeah. I know."

She looked a little flustered, and she ran a hand through her blonde hair nervously.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

I raised an eyebrow, and I saw a blush spread through her cheeks.

"Sorry, I'm not usually this jittery. I just need to talk to you, I need you to know what happened that day." She explained, motioning her hands around and gesturing like Dr. Banner often did.

"Sure." I decided, turning and walking into the room. She hesitantly followed, and I laid back onto the bed as she stood there awkwardly in my room, glancing at the dozens of glasses and bottles of Scotch that stood on the counter. I reached over for the full glass by the bedside table, taking a sip and looking at her expectantly.

"Well?" I croaked again, sniffling slightly. "Are you going to take a seat or just stand there?" there was no humor in my voice. More annoyance.

She pulled out a chair and sat in it stiffly. She took a slightly shaky breath, as if she was trying to hold back tears of her own.

"Ah… I just want to let you know _how _Agent Romanoff d-died."

I glanced at her, sitting up slightly as she stared at me with wide eyes.

"The mission had taken a turn for the worse, and the target sent out dozens of armed guards to attack us by surprise. Fury was right to pair us all together, the two of you would never have gotten out…"

"Alive." I finished.

"Well, we killed most of them, but missed a few strays. One had managed to plant a bomb while we were all distracted in the fight." She continued, twiddling her thumbs as her voice became thick as she swallowed the lump in her throat that I had often done lately.

"Agent Romanoff was the first to see it. There was around seven seconds before it went off, and I was right next to it. I was in hand-to-hand combat with one of the guards and didn't react on time. S-she called my name, and I _still_ wasn't fast enough. I was pushed away suddenly, around two seconds before it exploded, and she took my place, Clint. That should have been _me_ who died in that explosion. And thanks to me not reacting fast enough, you have lost your p-partner and I have to live with the fact that she d-died for me because _I wasn't fast enough."_

I caught the glint of a tear roll down her cheek, and felt my own eyes dampen. I sat up and rested my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes and taking in what she had said.

"Don't blame yourself." I sniffled, glancing at her with red eyes. "She would have taken your place even if you were fast enough."

Her chin wobbled slightly, but she nodded and stood up.

"I just thought I would let you know."

She turned to walk out the door, but must have remembered something as she twisted the door handle. She turned around, wiping her eyes hastily.

"Fury told me to tell you that her body is ready to be viewed. If you want."

I took another sip of alcohol. Was I in a stable enough condition to do this yet?

"How long has it been since her death?"

"Four days."

Oh. Is that it? It felt like an eternity. I guess that's what grieving does to you.

"What time?"

Sorrow washed over her face, and she looked at me with sympathy.

"Half an hour now." She said, glancing at her watch.

"I'll be there."

She nodded and smiled lightly, turned and stepped over the pile of flowers before leaving me alone to be trapped with my own thoughts and sadness that seemed to fill this room more and more each second.

.

The shower seemed to have paid off slightly. My eyes were less red-rimmed and I chose to shave my face completely. I still looked pale and ill, but couldn't care less. I needed to be prepared for what I was about to be faced with.

How would I react? I did not know. I didn't know if I would cry. Did I even have any tears left? That's all I seemed to be doing lately. Crying.

I really was weak.

The hollow feeling that gnawed at my heart failed to cease, and it took all my inner strength to walk out the door, to walk down the many halls to the viewing room where my worst nightmare would be awaiting.

_So many people staring. So many people waiting for me to snap._

I knew Natasha would have hated this if we were to be reversed. She would hate the fact that people were trying to find her weakness, and she would have never given into them. I was definitely the emotional one in the partnership. That was always something I envied about her; she was always composed, always prepared and kept her cool in the worst of moments. She locked her emotions away, kept them secret and hidden, and only during the night would she sneak into my room and let them all flow out in tears of rage and pity.

I need to be more like her.

The door was closed, and I was surprised when I saw Tony, Steve, Bruce and even Thor all sitting outside of the room with sad faces. When I turned the corner, all their heads snapped up, alert.

Steve was the first to approach me. He didn't say a word, he simply placed a hand on my shoulder and nodded to me, and I could tell that in the depths of his crystal blue eyes, he was holding down the same tears as I was.

It was me who smiled at him. It was a forced one of course, and I knew he saw straight through it, but he smiled back anyway, the same amount of sadness in it as mine.

Thor was next. He had no shame in contact, and grasped me in a huge bear hug that knocked the breath out of my lungs. He placed me down and looked down at me.

"I am ever so sorry for your loss, Clint. All from Asgard send their prayers."

"Thanks, Thor." I breathed, staring at my feet as Bruce and Tony came up.

"Clint…" Bruce sighed, looking at me with concern.

"Why are you here?" I asked. "Why are you all here now?"

"We're a team, Clint." Tony simply stated, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Natasha's death is a terrible, _terrible_ loss. And you need to know that, as your team, we are here for you. We always have been."

I felt my lip tremble slightly, and I hoped that nobody noticed.

"He's right."

We all turned. Fury and Maria Hill stood there, arms crossed behind their backs and their mouths pulled down at the corners.

"I know what your going through, Clint. I think we've all had our fair share of demons in our life. But you are not alone!" Steve mumbled.

"She was the only female on the team. She was like a daughter to me, a sister to Agent Hill, a friend to the team and something far, far more intimate to you." Fury walked forward, placing his hand on the door knob.

"Your not alone, Clint." Maria spoke up, eyes softening.

"Thank you." I breathed, shaking my head and rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands.

"Are you ready?" Bruce placed a reassuring palm on my back. I looked into the eyes of each team member, each friend. And Maria was right. They were _all _right. I wasn't alone.

"Together?"

"Together." They all said as one. I took a deep, steadying breath, clearing my head and focusing on staying calm, focusing on all the friends I had around me.

And then the door opened.

And we all formed a line as we walked into the room.

I was the third one in, followed by Steve, who had his hand on my shoulder. I liked Steve. He understood.

There was a single metal bench in the centre of the room, and a large body blanket covered the body of my partner.

There it was again, that lump in my throat and the gut wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach.

We all spread around the table, nodding to each other with reassuring eyes as a gesture of comfort.

I felt a cool, slender hand curl its way around my own. I looked down, it was Maria. Her eyes were glassy and damp, and she gave me a light squeeze before dropping my hand and nodding to me to uncover her.

There are no words to describe the feeling you get when you pull the blanket over the dead body of the one you love.

It's like someone has your heart in a steel grip, and still continues to tighten around it. It's like the air in your lungs has been stolen, and your left gasping for oxygen. Its like your legs have stopped working, and you have to force yourself to continue standing. It's like someone has punched and kicked you in the stomach, over and over again, and you feel like doubling over in pain, but all you do is stand there and stare in horror.

I knew my hand was shaking as I pulled the covers off of her body. The doctors had done a big favor in covering her more private body parts by wrapping her chest and abdominal area in bandages, saving the only bit of justice she had left.

Her face was calm, so calm. Eyes closed in an everlasting sleep and the permanent frown she had on her brow was gone. She was white, oh so white, as if all the colour had been drained from her. Her lips were the palest of pink, with slight purple rings under her eyes.

Bruises. Bruises and cuts and scars, new and old, some of which I recognized after hours of stitching up her wounds when doctors were out of the question.

I felt sick, I felt empty. The bile began to rise in my throat once again as we all stared in stunned silence at the sleeping beauty on the table in front of us.

If only Prince Charming could awaken her with a kiss.

"Geez, Nat." I breathed shakily, a trembling finger tucking a loose red curl behind her ear, like I had done so many times before. Even her hair was dead. Flat, no bounce or vibrancy, just flat and dull red.

Everyone looked at me, watched the intensity in my eyes as I caressed her cheek and took her cold, limp hand in my own. So, so cold.

My whole world had shattered.

"She beholds beauty even when death has taken her under his wing." Thor whispered.

"She's always been the looker." Tony huffed, and to my surprise, his voice was thick. "I knew there was more to her when she was sent to spy on me." He glanced at Fury, who almost glared back.

"Is that what made you make a different call?" Maria whispered. I glanced at her, noticing the trickle of tears that ran down her face.

"No, no not quite. It's hard to explain… she was so young, held so much talent and potential." I whispered back, clearing my throat to try and thin the lump that made it hard to swallow.

"Just like Peggy." Steve murmured, probably to himself, as he stared down at her unmoving body.

"Yes, she really was special. And brave." Bruce added, remembering the way she faced him that time in Calcutta.

"She's been through so much." Fury declared, and I nodded in agreement.

"Too much. And it was all for nothing." I hissed, grabbing the end of the blanket and pulling it over her body. "No one can compare."

"Clint…" Maria started.

"I want to bury her next to Phil. He's the closest thing she has to family."

Everyone looked at me, surprised by my sudden fierceness and determination.

"Your right." Fury nodded, and everyone else mumbled their agreements.

I took a deep breath, looking each one of them in the eye as I attempted to control the tears that were so close to spilling.

"Why does everyone I care about die on me?"

* * *

_**Alright, no lies here, I have pretty much planned out everything that is going to happen in this tragic little story. So many twists, so little time!**_

_**Anyway, leave a pretty little review in that pretty look box down there and tell me what you think so far!**_


	2. Chapter 2

It was no surprise to me that Clint had chosen music over drinking to take his grieving out on. Three weeks after my funeral, he had chosen to move into Stark Tower and have a floor of his own where he ordered a beautiful grand piano to be put in there. He bought several of his own guitars and played them day and night, sometimes singing along to the tune before stopping halfway and crying.

It broke my heart.

Phil told me that things get easier the longer you watch them for. He told me that soon I will be able to travel down to earth so I can always be with him; he'll just never know I was there.

I hated it up here. I wasn't in heaven nor in hell, it was just white. A vast whiteness that spread beyond view, where I could do anything I want and be anything I wanted to be, where I could watch over my loved ones but never truly be happy with it.

When I had first awoken in this strange place, I assumed I was dreaming. But things became all too real and the discovery of my death made things so much harder. I was happy to find Phil here; to know that I wasn't alone in this strange place, but the man I truly wanted to be with was grieving over my death and making himself sick.

He refused to eat or drink (apart from the Scotch Stark had given him) and he was losing weight. He avoided speaking to people, other then Jarvis, who would often try to offer him comfort. Pepper would sometimes stop into his apartment with clean clothes and an invitation to go somewhere with her and the rest of the team, but he refused each time.

Phil told me to give him time; that my death would be extremely hard on him given the circumstances of our relationship. He told me that he needed to be left alone, and soon he would find himself again and carry on with life.

Weeks passed and he slowly began to socialize with the rest of the team. He'd often go down to the common floor and just sit on a lounge and stare blankly at nothing while the others did their own thing. Then it turned into short conversations, then to going out to get coffee once in a while.

Soon a year passed and he learnt to accept what is. He spoke to other women but never looked them in the eye. When he went on missions, he never sung into the earpiece to his new partner, Agent Carter, the one I died for. He never showed any interest in her, more hate because he blamed her for my passing. He became a cold and closed man, he became more and more like _me;_ emotionless, professional and feared. But every night he would crawl into bed and cry, and he'd often whisper my name in his sleep in a choked and desperate voice that made my insides melt with longing and sadness.

And even a year later, he still came home and played his piano or sung to his guitar every night.

Two years later, Phil interrupted my watching over him with an urgent look on his face.

"What is it?"

"It's Fury. I decided to keep tabs on him incase anything interesting came up-" I glanced at him and rolled my eyes. He smiled slightly "-Old habits die hard. Anyway, he dug up your body three nights ago, and you were still completely preserved, just like Captain America was when we got him out of the ice."

"He dug my body up? Why?"

"Well, when I was still alive, I remember him working on a machine called the CRU. Cellular Reconstruction Unit. It's like a big tanning machine, and when your body goes into it, it undergoes scans and x-rays until it is time to revive your body, organs and blood cells. It's finally been complete."

My head snapped up then, drawing my attention away from Clint, who was in the middle of a game of Scrabble with Pepper.

"So that means…?"

"Natasha, you had a serum much like Captain America's injected into you. Your body was preserved like his. There is a chance that Fury is able to bring you back to life."

His words rang through my head like a chime, over and over and over. My legs felt numb and I thought I was going to fall over.

"After all this time…" I whispered, closing my eyes and taking a step back from Phil.

"Why aren't you happy?" Phil sounded honestly confused, and when I opened my eyes, I could feel the prickle of tears begin to tingle behind my lids.

"It's been two years, Phil. What if things have changed…"

"Natasha, in those two years you have watched him non-stop. Nothing has changed, he's simply become a stronger man."

I nodded and looked into his eyes. He seemed honestly happy.

"But I don't want to leave you again, Phil."

The smile was wiped off his face and he looked down. "I know. But your getting a second chance at life. You were too young to die, you had so much to live for. And you know from experience that we will meet again."

I sighed as I felt a tear trickle down my face. He wiped it away with his thumb and gave me a sad smile.

"As long as I know your always watching." I whispered, grabbing his wrist before he pulled away.

"I was watching the two of you the moment I died, Natasha."

.

Trying to get over Natasha's death wasn't the easiest thing to do on my list. Although I had the help and support from all my friends, it still haunted me two years later. I often woke up covered in sweat and tears, her name on my lips from a nightmare of seeing her limp body with a sharp pole protruding through her chest.

Things did get easier, though. I found that singing instantly lightens up my mood and I actually enjoyed being around the team who had become particularly good and supportive friends. Pepper had fallen pregnant not long ago and I was often left caring for her as Stark was called into the Helicarrier nearly everyday for some super secret device Fury was completing. He'd come home with a hopeful glint in his eye most nights, and I soon became curious to know what it was from, but chose not to ask.

Thor had chosen to stay on earth and live in a fairy tale dream with his lover, Jane, the two of them also living in Stark Tower. Jane became good friends with Banner and his girlfriend, Betty, and the three science nerds would often tease Thor and Steve for their oblivious behavior to today's society.

Steve had also found himself a woman. Her name was Oriana, and she had long black hair and bright green eyes that often reminded me of Natasha's. She didn't even know whom Steve was when they first met at a bakery after we got coffee, and I was often ditched because he'd rather spend time with her then his best pal. They soon became official, and they also became inhabitants in Stark Tower with Bruce and Betty, too.

It seemed everyone was finally beginning to live a normal life (as normal as it can get, being the Avengers.) except for me. I still mourned and refused to look another woman in the eye because I felt like I was betraying Natasha.

I went to hers and Phil's grave every Sunday with flowers that I would split between the two of them. I would often lay on the grass and close my eyes for hours and pretend that they were laying with me, but all too soon reality followed and I had to wake to the fact that they would be gone forever.

Everyone assumed that I had almost forgotten about her, and her name was hardly spoken between the team and I, and no one knew where I disappeared to every Sunday afternoon except for Steve.

"You know, Clint, you should really try to stop bottling all that anger and sadness inside. I can tell that your still upset by her loss, and maybe you need to talk to someone about it because soon enough your going to explode and you wont know what to do about it. Trust me, there is no better feeling then to let out all your emotions and just scream to the world. Ask the other guy." Bruce came up to me one day, saying those words with a sad look on his face.

That night we wandered to the very top of the tower and I screamed my lungs out. I let out a vicious growl I never even knew I could do, and I felt lighter and free as my voice echoed through the night. Bruce and I laughed hysterically, but soon that laughing turned into sobbing and Bruce became confused as his own laughter died down, and I sank to the ground and cried. He comforted me and told me it was normal to be having mixed emotions, but I was just so sick of being so weak.

I just missed her so much.

.

_**So to all that assume this is simply a tragedy story, incase you couldn't tell by this chapter, there is far more to it then you'd think. **_

_**Read before you judge. **_


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